


just a little bit closer and i'll let you hold my hand

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: milktea's saso2017 fills [55]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Pining, Prompt Fill, feelings are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: they're more than friends, but not yet lovers. or something.kise sure as heck can't figure it out.





	just a little bit closer and i'll let you hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/25713.html?thread=15946097#cmt15946097)
> 
> title from the prompt song [戀人未滿 by s.h.e.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jL6D7rqk4SQ)

Ryouta learns to count the breaths in the empty spaces between them.

Aomine isn’t exactly what an ideal friend would look like to most people, Ryouta thinks. He’s rude, he’s self-centered, he’s selfish, he’s impulsive, he’s lazy. But for some reason, Aomine treats Ryouta a bit differently. 

Aomine isn’t much of a texter, but when Ryouta sends him messages loaded with emoticons and exclamation marks, he always responds. Aomine isn’t much of a talker, but when Ryouta can’t sleep, he’ll accept Ryouta’s vidchat request anyway, and they’ll go for hours connected through their phones, sometimes discussing the latest NBA game and sometimes just staying quiet, listening to the other breathe across the line. Aomine isn’t much of a shopper, but when Ryouta mentions wanting to take a trip downtown, he’s the first to volunteer even if he grumbles and rolls his eyes when Ryouta asks for his opinion on anything other than basketball shoes.

He remembers Ryouta’s orders at the diner the team visits most often, he always grabs an extra Pocari for Ryouta at the vending machines, he lingers by the gates and waits to walk home with Ryouta even on days when Momoi has other plans, even on days when Ryouta is delayed by remedial studies. When Ryouta shivers in the morning air, Aomine wordlessly drops his own jacket over Ryouta’s shoulders, walking away before he can say anything. When Ryouta hovers too long in front of a keychain at the mall, Aomine shows up the next day and slaps it in Ryouta’s hand before running after Kuroko for extra practice. When Ryouta is complaining about his agency upping his work schedule, Aomine indulges him instead of cutting him off like Midorima, even if he’s flipping through his magazines at the same time.

Ryouta doesn’t really know what to make of this. He’s caught himself staring at Aomine without meaning to. He’s woken up from a few embarrassing dreams starring himself and the other boy. He’s found himself thinking of Aomine more often than he should. 

Aomine is—what does Kuroko’s inner poet like to say—Aomine is like the sun. He’s burns bright like a star, demanding attention like it’s his birthright, and Ryouta can only concede.

He just wishes he knew if the other boy was thinking of him, too.

“Aominecchi,” Ryouta says on the way home one afternoon. Practice was cancelled today due to floor inspections and Aomine was pretty put out about that. Still, he walks home with Ryouta, arms crossed behind his head, face tilted towards the sky.

“Wha,” Aomine says around the empty popsicle stick he’s been chewing on.  Ryouta can’t see if it says Winner or not.

_ Why do you walk home with me when you live in the other direction? _ Ryouta doesn’t say.  _ Why do you sit beside me at lunch and steal food from my tray but you don’t look at me, why won’t you look at me? Why am I the first one you call when you’ve sprained your ankle practising alone again, why do you confide in me instead of your best friend or your childhood friend? _

_ Why do you flirt with me if you aren’t going to make a move? _

“Did you win?” Ryouta asks instead, pointing to the popsicle stick.

Aomine pulls it out of his mouth and looks at it. “Huh,” he says, “what do you know? Here.” He holds it out to Ryouta until Ryouta takes it. “Alright, see ya tomorrow.”

He reaches out and ruffles Ryouta’s hair, laughing when Ryouta tries to duck away. Then he’s walking away again, retracing their steps back from the train station. Ryouta counts his heartbeats, one, two, three, and then Aomine turns the corner and is gone.

Ryouta glances down at the popsicle stick.

It’s a Winner.

**Author's Note:**

> @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter


End file.
